“No, I don’t think so.” He should have said something else, otherwise he would look like an idiot. “I’m Drew. I’m staying at The Park,” he blurted out finally. Bill gave him a look. Drew ignored it, Bill was clearly an arse.
Robbie went on, as though oblivious to the looks Drew exchanged with all three of Robbie’s friends. “These two idiots are Vick and Darren. They’re not twins, even though they look the same.” One of them rolled his eyes at Robbie’s words but didn't say anything. “And this is Bill. We’ve been mates since kindergarten.” Bill grunted and Robbie pulled his arm from around Drew to punch Bill in a good-natured wrestle. Drew stood to the side, as the four of them roughhoused and called each other names in that familiar way of people who’ve known each other forever.
Robbie tussled with the not-twins and Bill extracted himself from their play fighting. He sidled up to Drew, who braced himself. Drew already knew Robbie’s friend did not like him, at all.
“Whatcha doin’ with Rob?” Bill growled low and accusingly, so that the others wouldn't hear. Drew didn't think it would matter how loud Bill was, they were so absorbed in their wrestling.
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean.” Drew felt prissy as he said it and cringed at how snooty he sounded.
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean,” Bill said in a simpering falsetto. Drew just stared, unsure what Bill’s problem was, Bill stared back.
Robbie finally extracted himself from the others and bounced over. “Everything ok?” Robbie asked Drew. Drew forced himself to smile. It wasn't Robbie’s fault his friends were losers.
“Yeah.” Drew kissed his summer, almost boyfriend and made a claim on him, even though it was kind of petty, but Bill had started it. Robbie pulled back before Drew finished kissing him, smiled through an outrageous blush, but retreated all the same. He kept his fingers tangled with Drew’s, which was something, but the way he deliberately focused on whatever Vic and Darren were talking about rather than him told Drew that he’d been more demonstrative than Robbie felt comfortable with. Drew was on the periphery, not connected to this group.
The warm breath on his neck warned Drew just before “faggot” hissed in his ear. Drew stopped, suddenly, in shock, and Robbie kept going, pulling his hand out of Drew’s, abandoning him just as Bill smacked hard into his shoulder.
“Sorry.” Bill's insincere grunt barely registered, and he stepped around Drew to Robbie’s side, shoving an arm over his shoulder, effectively cutting Drew out.
Hot waves of anger, hurt and shame rolled through Drew. He waited for Robbie to notice he wasn't with him, to come and ask him what was wrong, but Bill had caught his attention and Robbie was just going along with the group. A tiny part of him tried to insist that Robbie had nothing to do with feeling abandoned, that he didn't even know what had been said, but the overwhelming surge of sick betrayal at the horrible word he’d never had directed at him, squashed rational logic.
Drew took a deep breath and ran to catch up to the group, pushing in front of Robbie and Bill. He spun around and glared at Bill before turning to Robbie.
“Are we going to the movies then?” Drew asked, attempting to get Robbie back to the date that had started so promisingly only hours before.
“Oh yeah, the guys want to come too, that’s okay, right?” Robbie at least had the grace to look a bit sheepish at his question. Bill stood a little to the side and behind Robbie, and only Drew could see his nasty smirk.
“No, it’s not really alright. I thought we were on a date.” Drew didn’t care what Bill or the stupid not-twins thought, or said. The hot sting of the nasty insult now slowly fading under the greater hurt of this sabotage.
“Oh,” said Robbie, as though this was news to him. But it wasn’t, surely? “I kinda said it was okay.” A mulish, stubborn expression crossed Robbie’s face. “It’s fine Drew, let’s just go to the movies with the guys.” He reached for Drew and tried to draw him closer so they could walk next to each other. Bill slipped further back so that he stood directly in Drew’s line of sight and out of Robbie’s, and his smirk grew more and more nasty and knowing, as Robbie and Drew talked. He dared Drew to tell Robbie what he’d said. Drew wasn’t sure Robbie would believe him. He tried to calm down so he didn't show how pissed off he was at Bill or how much Robbie’s words hurt.
“I’d rather just be on a date with you. I don’t know these guys, and I’m 100% sure your friend Bill doesn't like me.”
Robbie looked in surprise at Drew. “What do you mean he doesn't like you? We aren't twelve, or teenage girls. We can just go see something at the movies, nobody’s asking you to braid his hair.” A hot sting of betrayal surged though Drew, like suddenly he was talking to a different Robbie from a slightly different dimension, where old Australian male stereotypes were models for appropriate behaviour.
“Your friend called me a faggot.” Drew said.
Robbie sighed. “So? He calls me a fag all the time. He’s just busting your balls.” The nasty sneer that Bill sported told Drew that the word “fag” in relation to Robbie was potentially very different to the word “faggot” in relation to Drew, but also, that maybe Bill’s name calling was never friendly, and that maybe, Robbie had blinkers on when it came to his so-called friend.
“Fine. Even if that’s true, I’m not going to the movies with him.” Drew crossed his arms in front of his chest, and waited for Robbie to respond.
“Ok,” replied Robbie slowly, “then don’t.” And Robbie turned away from Drew to Bill who instantly changed his nasty smile into one of sympathy for Robbie. Drew wasn’t sure what to think or feel.
Chapter 12 - Robbie
29th December
The minute he’d left Drew to walk to the movie theatre with the boys, he’d felt bad, like really bad. The guys were behaving like idiots, throwing stuff, talking, punching and teasing each other till the other moviegoers glared at them where they sat in the back row. Every stupid gay comment they threw about like an insult, a tiny bit more like they were saying something real, rather than teasing.
Robbie’s smile was brittle, not his intended dismissive smirk, as he stuck his middle finger up in the familiar goodbye to his friends. He jogged across the road to where Drew watched kids fishing in the creek that ran through the park next to the street. He hunched over, reading something, on a park bench near Robbie’s car. Shame welled up in Robbie: he left Drew alone in town while he hung out with his, honestly, unfriendly friends.
“Hey Robbie,” Bill yelled from where the boys were still gathered across the road. Drew looked up and his miserable expression made Robbie feel even worse. He turned to look back at Bill. “Later homo.” Bill smirked and waved, Robbie wanted to be sick. His friends were arseholes, why did he let them speak like this all the time? It wasn't a joke, It wasn't friendly, or in fun, his friends were targeting and harassing him. He turned to Drew, ready to apologise, grovel a bit, he really should, given how he’d left Drew stranded.
The miserable expression that had been on Drew’s face was gone: he was furious. Intense and heartfelt disgust showed as he stared at Bill’s back, and then turned on Robbie. Robbie bristled, his friends had been pretty shit, Robbie had been pretty shit, but Drew had no right to judge him, to be disgusted by him. Drew wasn't the one who lived in Whitehaven, he was leaving in a few weeks. Drew was nice to have, but temporary, so he could take his self-righteous fury and shove it. Robbie scowled in response to Drew’s angry look, and unlocked the car.
“Get in,” Robbie said. Drew reluctantly and slowly uncurled and made his way to the passenger side, opened the door and got in, not looking at Robbie. Robbie didn't care, he didn't look at Drew either.
The silence on the way back to Whitehaven Beach, unpleasant at best. Robbie pulled up at the entrance to the park eventually and Drew opened the door and got out. He stood there for a few seconds, and Robbie thought that maybe he might say something, his heart rate sped up in anticipation for a fight or some kind of step toward making up. Instead, Drew s
tepped away and slammed the car door before turning to walk down the sandy track.
Robbie didn't watch him go. He just looked straight ahead, knuckles white with the tight grip of his hands on the steering wheel.
Chapter 13 – Drew
30th December
Drew’s heart hurt. He felt alternately angry, and upset and hurt and then angry again, every time Bill's actions and Robbie's reactions repeated in his mind. How could someone so amazingly comfortable with himself be okay with friends who spoke to him the way Robbie's did?
This kind-of-boyfriend thing couldn't be big and important. It was just a temporary, fun thing for the summer holidays, but the hurt that coursed through him said otherwise.
Drew grabbed his racing Speedos and a rash shirt. He should stop thinking about Robbie, but his dad’s impulsive volunteering meant he’d swim for hours, or at least float, while he watched out for struggling swimmers in the Whitehaven Classic, and so would Robbie.
“Drew, sweetie, you’re up early,” his mum said as she pottered about in the tiny caravan kitchen space. “Oh, that’s right, you’re swimming today. Is Robbie coming around here first or are you boys meeting up at the beach?”
Drew grunted so he didn't have to answer and made his way out to the amenities block.
When Drew returned, Robbie sat at the picnic table chatting to Drew’s mum like nothing had happened the day before. Drew wasn't sure what to do. Robbie looked up from the plate of berries and french toast and smiled his big beautiful smile. Was Robbie worried how Drew would react to him? Robbie should be wary, Drew was furious. It was better than his heart hurting.
“Darling, Robbie came to pick you up for the volunteer briefing. That was nice wasn’t it?” Drew’s mother asked. Drew didn’t deign to answer. He did, however, glare at Robbie, who had the grace to look ashamed before turning away.
“Will you be coming down to the swim, Mrs McConnell?” Robbie asked, continuing to avoid looking at Drew, who ignored him right back.
“I’ll see you down at the beach, mum.” Drew interrupted. He pretended not to see his mother’s surprised expression and Robbie’s hurt one, grabbed his towel and started towards the beach track. Behind him, Robbie extracted himself from the chair. An exchange took place between his mum and Robbie, but Drew couldn't hear what they said. Resentment seethed under his skin at the imagined apology his mum made to Robbie for the rudeness he wasn't sorry for. He didn't want anyone to apologise for him. Robbie should be the one apologising.
Despite Drew’s anger at Robbie, he was hyperaware of his heat when he walked too closely beside him on the bush track to the park exit. Drew didn’t acknowledge Robbie, not even to say any of how furious, how hurt he felt. Robbie was silent, too, and Drew resented that even more.
They crossed the road, to the crowded beach carpark, full of hyped up ocean swimmers in their brightly coloured swim caps and skimpy racing speedos.
“Are we alright?” Robbie asked, like he hadn’t abandoned him to go to the movies with his insulting and homophobic friends.
“No, we’re not alright. You left me in the middle of a date to hang out with a bunch of guys who called me a faggot. I don’t even know where to begin with how not alright we are.”
Robbie remained silent at his outburst, and turned to continue through the crowds of swimmers to the water safety briefing. At the patrol tent, Robbie’s dad barked out orders in full drill sergeant mode. Drew moved to the back of the group of volunteers in an effort to go unnoticed. Thankfully Robbie was grabbed by one of the old guys to help set up the rescue boat.
Robbie slipped into a comfortable role of happy, friendly helpful son of “Adds-y” Adams. He seemed to have completely forgotten they’d fought, were fighting. Drew’s chest squeezed. This thing he’d started with Robbie, it was just a summer fling, just a fun and sexy way to pass the time, but it felt more real than just a casual nothing, and the way Robbie behaved, as though Drew had been unreasonable: that hurt.
Drew ended up on the team of volunteers working in pairs at the halfway mark of the two kilometre swim. Gossiping and watching groups of swimmers pass, some volunteers were on rescue boards, some with the bright yellow foam floats that were easy to turn into an underwater buoyancy seat that floated behind the waves. Drew didn't know Alyson who he was paired with, but she clearly knew him.
“So, you and Robbie, huh?” she said, once they’d swam 200 meters out to their marker point.
“Ah, kind of,” Drew answered, not interested in detailing his relationship, or otherwise, with the boy who seemed to have equal measures of love, exasperation and an unconscious homophobia directed at him by everyone in Whitehaven.
“You guys look good together.”
Drew just grunted; he wasn't exactly sure what to say to that.
“Have you volunteered at this swim before?” Drew asked her, in the hope that the change of subject would mean he didn't have to talk or think about Robbie.
“Yes, a couple of times, but normally I’m on the boards. Or in the boat. I didn’t renew my licence this year so I’m stuck out here with a float, kind of my least favourite task, but it’s ok. At least we get to be in the water.”
Drew murmured his assent. He’d have liked to have been on a board, but at least he didn’t have to swim with Robbie. Drew had purposefully stayed at the back of the tent when the assignments had been handed out, hiding so he wasn't paired with Whitehaven’s golden boy, but he needn't have bothered. Robbie was part of the Inflatable Rescue Boat crew, and would be zipping around the course, ensuring stragglers in the waves of swimmers were ok, and keeping an eye on the elite competitors to make sure no cheating occurred.
Drew could see the crowd on the beach, the lime coloured swim caps lined up at the water with the elite swimmers in them, a huge crowd of pink capped swimmers clustered behind. The screech of the hand-held portable megaphone, wielded by an organiser sorting out the rest of the coloured capped swimmers into groups, clearly audible, even if the actual words were not.
The starting gun fired and the elite swimmers raced into the water.
“Well, they’ve off,” said Alyson.
The churn and splash of the ocean heralded the sleek and efficient glide of the lime capped elite. Their economy when swimming was beautiful and graceful, and fast. Drew envied their skill, but the amount of training required to look like that in the water was huge, more than he was prepared to do. The Inflatable Rescue Boat idled nearby, where Robbie monitored the race, and Drew pointedly did not look at it. Alyson raised her hand and waved at the crew.
“Did you guys have a fight?” Alyson asked when the last of the elite swimmers had passed them.
“Um, kind of, not really, it’s nothing important.” Drew’s chest constricted and he deliberately deepened his breathing. It was important, and Drew was hurting.
“Oh. Well. I’m sure it will be fine,” said Alyson with a chirpy confidence that Drew wished he felt. A group of pink capped swimmers passed, saving him from answering. He’d been so busy ignoring Robbie and answering Alyson’s questions, he’d missed the start of their wave.
There wasn't time, or silence enough to talk after that, which made Drew grateful. The waves of swimmers dove into the water every five minutes, their skill and speed varying.
The white caps, the 60+ group with old men and women in tiny speedo racewear and skin sunburned into a warm chocolate colour, were the last wave of swimmers. Drew felt cold despite the sun’s heat and the warm ocean current. He hoped these old ducks were serious competitors, rather than the slow and steady, just-have-a-go, types, who ended up breaststroking or backstroking for half the course. He wanted to swim in.
The shark alarm blared, a distinctively irritating and insistent horn. For a second, Drew wasn’t sure what was happening. He’d never heard the alarm when he’d been on patrol, only as a member of the public on the beach, with no responsibility to anyone but himself. Alyson punched him in the shoulder.
“That’s the shark ala
rm, there are no white caps out here, and the last yellow ones swam past us more than twenty minutes ago, we don’t need to get anyone, swim to the beach.” Drew nodded, put his head down and started a powerful freestyle stroke that bordered on too fast for efficiency. He checked around himself every three breaths, in case he passed a struggling competitor, but the blaring siren ramped up his heart rate with a terrible fear. He didn't want to be attacked by a shark.
The swim took minutes that felt like hours. Drew stood waist deep in the shore break, helping people out of the water. He looked around to find Robbie, but couldn't see him on the beach. He had probably circled the shark in the boat, keeping it well away from any straggling swimmers. Robbie was fine. Drew didn't need to see him. Robbie was totally fine.
After checking in to the volunteer patrol tent to record his name and let them know he was safely out of the water, Drew made his way back to the caravan park. Robbie’s dad had announced the presentation night was still being held the next night, on New Year’s Eve. Drew would go, because it was expected, not at all because he wanted to see Robbie, not because Robbie had been out in the water, in the boat, when the freaking shark alarm had gone off, and Drew hadn’t seen him since.
Chapter 14 – Robbie
30th December
Robbie hauled the boat out of the water and onto the sand with Graham, one of his dad’s friends, who had been crewing the Inflatable Rescue Boat. A couple of other patrol members raced over to help pull the boat out.
Robbie needed to see if Drew had gotten out of the water, make sure he was okay, not hurt, hug him, apologise, make things right. The botched not-quite, not-at-all apology from the morning, sat like a hard bitter lump in his stomach. He wanted to throw up at the idea that Drew could have been, could be, hurt and Robbie had baulked at apologising when he had been in the wrong.
Robbie couldn't leave the post IRB routine that seemed to take three times longer than usual. More than one of his crew mates huffed and swore in frustration when he dropped oars, messed up the starting motor and left his life vest in the sand.
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